


Caring

by tastewithouttalent



Series: Understanding [8]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Inline with canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:10:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2676791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When Yamamoto walked away with Lambo and I-pin in tow, he was ready to take care of himself, distract himself from the ache of loneliness with the focus babysitting requires, and he really didn’t think he’d have company." Gokudera makes excuses and Yamamoto sees through them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caring

Yamamoto wasn’t expecting Gokudera to follow him. He had hoped, in a sort of instinctive way, for the comfort of the other boy’s company, the familiar reassurance of his growled insults that always lack the bite of true venom behind them. It would help ground him, a little, give him a frame of reference for this world that is so like his as to be uncanny in the thousand tiny differences. But when he walked away with Lambo and I-pin in tow, he was ready to take care of himself, distract himself from the ache of loneliness with the focus babysitting requires, and he really didn’t think he’d have company.

Which is why, when he turns around to see a familiar silhouette at the entrance to the park, he can’t restrain the shocked relief on the sound of the other boy’s name on his lips.

“Gokudera?” For a moment Yamamoto’s attention is entirely divorced from Lambo and I-pin by the first flush of surprise. He forgets it’s the future, forgets he doesn’t belong, forgets about everything except the shape of Gokudera’s scowl in the golden light. “What’s up? I thought you went home.”

Gokudera’s eyes flicker with something Yamamoto can’t name, some echo of the discomfort unsettling his own thoughts, but when he speaks his words have the usual snap of aimless aggression under them. “I don’t have one.”

“Huh?”

Gokudera tips his chin down, frowns hard at the ground under his feet. The sunlight is catching on his hair, turning the soft grey into shining silver. “Ten years have passed. I already moved.”

Yamamoto considers this statement for a moment, thinks through where Gokudera lives in the past and how long it would take to get there to even check if he’d moved or not. Then he takes a guess at how long he’s been here with Lambo and I-pin: not long enough for either of them to get bored, so it can’t have been more than five minutes.

He can feel his expression going soft with realization, can feel the gratitude of a smile tugging at his lips, but he doesn’t offer thanks. That’s not the way to do things, with Gokudera. “Wanna play soccer with us, then?”

Gokudera visibly startles, as if he wasn’t expecting to be asked to stay, as if there was any question of Yamamoto aching for his presence. “Like I would…”

He’s going to say yes. Yamamoto can hear it in the trailing end of his sentence, has learned Gokudera well enough to read the flush climbing across his cheekbones in response to the other boy’s continued stare. Then Lambo yells, “Bring it on, Stupidera!” and it’s a done deal, that’s all the opening Gokudera needs to assent even before I-pin chimes in with “You’re welcome to join us!”

Gokudera stays still for a moment, staring at the kids instead of meeting Yamamoto’s gaze. Then he laughs, a short sharp chuckle, and when he smiles it touches his eyes bright. “Fine, I’m bored anyway. Just for a little.” His kick is well-aimed, sends the ball flying in a smooth arc that Yamamoto would watch if he weren’t held still by Gokudera walking in closer to where he is standing. There’s a burst of chatter, Gokudera growling and Lambo laughing, but Yamamoto is too distracted to pay attention to the meaning of the words. He’s too focused on the way his breathing is smoothing out, how much easier it is to smile, how bright Gokudera’s hair looks from this close.

“One more time!” Lambo insists, and Gokudera growls but shifts his weight, catches the soccer ball with his foot so he can kick it again. It crosses the playground, this time, sails clear over Lambo and I-pin’s heads so they both turn and race to get to the ball before the other, leaving Yamamoto and Gokudera momentarily alone.

Gokudera clears his throat, stares after the kids with no attention at all in his gaze. “You okay?”

Yamamoto takes a breath. He can’t look away from the frown of concentration at Gokudera’s mouth, the set of his jaw that says he’s holding himself back. “Yeah.” He shifts his weight, turns to face the shapes of the kids as well so his elbow is nearly brushing Gokudera’s arm. “You?”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Gokudera growls. “I’m asking about  _you_. You don’t have to take care of other people all the time.”

Yamamoto laughs at that. The sound is a little shaky, his throat a little unsteady on the emotion, but it sends warmth coursing out into his limbs, soothes away the lingering ache of not-belonging.

“Okay.”

There’s motion at the corner of his eye, enough to pull Yamamoto’s attention away from Gokudera’s face and down to where he’s pulling his hand free of his pocket. Gokudera doesn’t look at what he’s doing, just reaches blind to close his fingers on Yamamoto’s wrist so he can slide his hand down to press against the other’s. When Yamamoto looks back up at his face Gokudera is flushing red, and he’s still not looking at him, but he’s digging his fingers into the back of Yamamoto’s hand so hard there’s no space to question his intention. Yamamoto tightens his own fingers on Gokudera’s hand, presses his thumb in so he can feel the tiny burn scar at the base of Gokudera’s thumb and the tension drawing the other boy’s grip tight against his hand. Gokudera’s skin is hot against him, radiating the same heat that’s coloring his cheeks crimson with self-consciousness, and it’s burning off the hurt in Yamamoto’s thoughts, casting everything hopeful and bright just from the presence of the other boy beside him.

It’s hard to feel out-of-place when he’s right where he’s supposed to be.


End file.
